


Masquerade Ball

by Damien_Reid



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Canonical Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2018-01-02 06:04:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1053374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damien_Reid/pseuds/Damien_Reid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short detour from my other works.</p>
<p>Really just an experiment in keeping the dynamic if they're all the same age. It'll end in cuddles, I promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Exposition Mostly...

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, well...Exposition mostly.  
> And the next chapter as well.
> 
> Sorry?

Poland was cold…New York was worse.

New York was worse in ways Erik hadn’t anticipated. Not the temperature _or_ the people but the temperature _of_ the people. The way they treated each other— or rather didn’t treat each other. People didn’t exist in New York, just blurs that grumbled at you when you bumped them or got in their way.

The airport was a steady stream of grey suits and briefcases and shouting into Bluetooth’s. He missed home already and he’d barely been gone a day. What was he supposed to do for the next 365? He was miserable in that boys home, but even Sebastian Shaw couldn’t ruin Erik’s love of Poland. Poland was the land of his people, the place where he could walk the same streets his parents had when they’d been his age, the same streets his grandparents and his great grandparents had. He could literally stand in their footsteps.

Erik was just about to ditch the curb to scrounge for a decent cup of no sugar caffeine when he saw a car he recognized; a classic Lincoln, in black with a red hot interior. For a family so quiet the Frosts were awfully flash.

The passenger side door opened and the spinning image of Jakob-had-he-been-a-woman stepped out. She threw her arms around Erik’s neck while her husband, Andrew, grabbed Erik’s duffel.

“Oh! It’s been such long time— too long! You look just like your mother, has anyone ever told you? It’s very good to see you.” Erik smiled at his aunt Wanda. She may be his father’s twin but aside from their looks they were polar opposites. His father was the stoic, brooding type while his aunt was cheerful and talkative. Her English was a twinge off in places and heavily accented. She reminded him of home.

“It’s good to see you too, Aunty. Uncle.” Andrew smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. His aunt led the way back to the car.

“You too, Son. Christian and Emma’ll love seeing you again. How long‘s it been?  Five years?” Andrew Frost was an all-American, titled, trust-fund kid whose family had come across from England in the late 1800’s and steadily added to the inheritance with every generation until they became as rich as the companies that made their cars. Somehow Andrew still managed to be a pretty decent guy (if a little too well-dressed).

“Yeah. At least. How are things?” Sebastian always cracked jokes about Erik’s bad manners but, truth was? Erik chose to disrespect Shaw because Shaw deserved disrespect. Erik was well versed in polite conversation.

“Good, good. You’re seventeen, right? Christian’s twenty-one so he’s in college but, you can count on ‘im to give you a ride to school ‘n’ pick you up. Emma’s only sixteen; you’ll be attending Genosha with her.” Andrew supplied.

“Yeah, thanks. When does school start?” Erik asked. He’d forgotten all about that. School hadn’t been a priority for a long time but, he supposed now it would be.

“Next week, Dear, second of September.” Wanda said looking at him via rear-view window. His mother used to do that, too.

“Any favourite classes? Christian likes auto-shop and I know Jakob was real good at metal-work. Something along those lines, maybe?” His uncle offered.

“I’m looking into engineering, maybe construction work.” Erik was starting to think he might fit in here after all. So far they had proved to be as calm and un-intrusive as ever.

“Ah. Maybe one day you’ll work for Stark enterprises, huh?” his uncle didn’t even seem like he was joking when he said it. Stark Industries was the best and biggest when it came to technological advancement of any kind all over the world. Working for them, even for just a week as tea-boy, would guarantee Erik a job in any place, at any position he wanted, anywhere, ever.

“Maybe one day.” He said as they pulled up to the house.

Erik liked it well enough— far from humble but, not overly grandiose. The inside was just the same as the out; immaculate, well-kept, pricey. It wasn’t home yet, but it could be.

Wanda stopped, just inside the door, and turned to Erik.

“Hungry? I made spaghetti for dinner and Lebkuchen for dessert.” Erik smiled at the memory of his mother’s Lebkuchen on the first day of Hanukkah every year.

“Yeah. Starving.” His Aunt put a hand on his forearm and smiled like she knew what he was thinking.

“Good.” She said. From behind him, his Uncle called up the stairs.

“Christian! Emma! Dinner!” a muffled ‘coming’ echoed down to them.

“Why don’t I show you your room and you can get settled ‘nd change before we eat.” Erik nodded up at Andrew and followed him upstairs.

Andrew led him to a dark green door with a bronze handle. The room was about average size, with a desk, a bookshelf, two doors, and a large bed with green comforters.

“Here. All yours.” Andrew walked to the nearest door.

“This is your closet.” He said, pushing it open.

“And this-” He pushed open the other door.

“is your bathroom. Your aunt and I are the double-door at the end of the hall. Just call us if you need anything.” Andrew said, stepping back out of the room.

“Thanks Uncle. It means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it. You’re family after all. This is your home for as long as you ‘ant it to be, you’re always welcome.” Andrew gave an easy, sincere smile and Erik returned it. Andrew left, closing Erik’s door and going to knock on Christian’s and then Emma’s.

The rest of the week was uncomplicated and undemanding, spent catching up with his family and getting to know their routine. Christian was his father in miniature and Emma was the classic cold beauty. They were both nearly-platinum blonde with ice-blue eyes and typically perfect physiques. Luckily, Erik had the same auburn hair as his Aunt and the same slightly bronzed skin so he didn’t stand out too much. He was shorter than Christian and he had his mother’s green eyes but, no one had trouble believing he was related to the Frosts.


	2. Umm...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exposition again. Next chapter should be better...  
> But no promises!

The second of September rolled around and Erik woke up at 0545—as he was prone to do— and dressed casual: plain grey tee, dark jeans, and his favourite leather jacket (the one his parents gave him on his birthday three years ago, that was too big then, but perfect now). He said goodbye to his Aunt and Uncle as they left for work and not-so-subtly dropped a brand new mobile in his bag. Christian drove Erik and Emma to school in his red-trimmed white convertible and told Erik to call if he ran into trouble. Emma did as she was told and led him to the front office to pick up his schedule, then—

“Armando.” Emma called as she approaching a young man with broad shoulders and dark skin.

“Mrs. Frost.” Armando replied.

“Would you mind showing Erik around? I need to go find Charles.” She asked semi-sweetly.

“Sure.” Armando said, eyes on Erik.

“Thanks, Sugar.”

“No prob.” Emma smiled again and turned, ditching Erik in her six inch Jimmy Chu’s.

Armando held a hand out to Erik.

“Armando Munoz. Feel free to call me Darwin.” Erik took the offered hand with a firm grip and gave it a quick shake.

“Erik Lehnsherr. I’m Emma’s cousin.”

“Nice to meet you, Erik.” Armando said taking Erik’s schedule.

“You’ve got Logan for first block. Same here. Any questions so far?”  Erik thought for a second before answering.

“Charles?” Erik had heard the name around the Frost home a few times.

“The God-Prince.” Armando laughed as Erik replied with the raise of an eyebrow.

“Nothing. Charles Francis Xavier, sometimes fondly referred to as Professor X. He’s just an all-around good guy and even the people who hate him are in love with him.” Armando clarified.

“He has a funny habit of picking up strays though.” He added, chuckling. A pair of slim, tan arms wound their way around Armando’s neck from behind.

“What was that? A habit of picking up what?” The girl poked her head up, over Armando’s shoulder, and glared at him.

“Oh, nothing Dear.” Armando replied, smiling coolly.

“Mmhmm. And who’s this?” She said, suddenly-friendly gaze directed at Erik, a chop of black hair in her face.

“Frost’s cousin: Erik.” Her eyes widened slightly.

“Oh? She never mentioned a cousin.”

“She never mentioned a lot of things.”

“She digs that enigmatic persona, huh?”

“About as much as you do.”

“Thanks Munoz.” The girl said, rolling her eyes.

“Welcome Salvador.” Armando replied, pressing in for a not-so-chaste kiss

“Eww. Get a room guys.” A lanky ginger whined, tumbling into the pair from behind, making faces. The Salvador girl rolled her eyes again and punched him in the shoulder.

“Just ‘cause _you’re_ all alone.” The skinny kid stood across from her and matched her pose, hands on his hips.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m alone 'cause I wanna be.” The girl looked up at him with narrowed eyes.

“As if.” She shot. Armando let out a long, exasperated sigh as if he’d seen this a million times (likely he had).

“This—” He slipped an arm around the girl’s waist and pulled her in front of him.

“Pretty young thing, is Angel Salvador. She’s a sophomore, though she never acts like it.” Angel smiled at Erik.

“Nice to meet you, Daddy-o.” Erik quirked an eyebrow at the name, but refrained from comment.

“Likewise.” He said as a mild alternative. Armando smiled.

“This idiot, is Sean Cassidy. Knows everyone, can get you anything.” Armando gestured at the ginger beanpole.

“Call me Banshee. It’s my stage name.” Erik just gave him a dull look.

“I’m in a band! Angel knows!” Sean screeched and looked to Angel beseechingly. Now it was Angel’s turn to sigh.

“He is in a band but, feel free to call him Cassidy like the rest of us. Only his groupies call him Banshee. I play lead guitar by the way.” She smirked. Erik nodded in mock solemnity.

“Noted.” He said.

“Who’s the new guy? One of Charles’?” This time it was a petite brunette who spoke. The way she looked at Erik was slightly hostile, mostly accusatory.

Armando jumped in again.

“One of Frost’s actually. Her cousin, Erik.” The girl’s eyes widened and she looked a little less like she wanted to punch him.

“Oh. She didn’t say. I’m Moira Mactaggert. It’s nice to meet you, Erik.” She said, slightly bashful and unexpectedly polite.

“You too.” He said peering down at her. She averted her gaze and looked at Darwin.

“Where’d Havoc and Rae go?”She asked.

“Same place The Frost went, I suspect. Charles.” Darwin replied, deliberately oblivious.

“Mm. Scott and Jeannie here yet?”

“On their way. You know how they are.” Angel said. Sean made another face.

“Ugh. Don’t we all?” He whinged, blowing a raspberry.

“Again. Stop being jealous.”

“I’m not-” Whatever reply Sean might’ve had in mind was swallowed by the bell.

“Meet in the caf for lunch?” Angel supplied.

“Yeah. I’ll let the Wonder Twins know.” Was Darwin’s reply.

“Cool. Later.” Moira said, running off, not wanting to be late.

“You guys have the same first block?”Angel inquired.

“Yup. You’ve got Monroe, right?”

“Yeah. Catch you Cats later. Good luck with the Wolverine.” Angel said, giving Darwin a quick peck, then dissolving into the crowd.

“Don’t need it.”He called after her.

“We have Monroe tomorrow. She’s nice if you don’t piss her off.” Darwin said, turning back to Erik.

“Some kids are still calling her Storm. Remember that one time she threw a whole-“

“Hey Cassidy, you seen Hank?” Some blonde kid cut in, walking up and murdering the rest of Sean’s sentence. Again. The kid was dressed in faded blue jeans, a white tee, and a short sleeved flannel. He looked half middle-state-country-boy, half rebel-without-a-cause.

“Last I saw, he was busy making eyes at the new lab equipment the Prof dragged in. You know, if you called him ‘Hank’ to his face instead of ‘Bozo’, he’d probably hate you less.”

“Like I care. Mind your own business.” The boy said, blushing and pouting like a petulant child.

“I’m just sayin: If you wanna get in his pants, abuse is not the way.” The guy turned bright red and punched Sean in the arm before fleeing the scene. Armando just laughed as Sean tried to rub some feeling back into his arm.

“Jeez. Just try’n’a help.”

“Haha. Come on, Erik. Let’s get to class. Sean, you ditching?”

“Yup.”

“Don’t get caught. Later.”

“Later.”

 

 

 

 

Class was mostly uneventful. James ‘Wolverine’ Logan was kind of abusive and dressed like a lumberjack; but he seemed reasonable enough and chewed people out in an impressive multitude of languages. Erik could speak, read, and write in: German, Polish, Spanish, and French. Logan could do all that plus: Russian, Swahili, Cantonese, and Mandarin. Erik respected him.

During class Darwin told Erik more about the Merry-Band-of-Misfits he was steadily surrounding himself with.

Angel had accidentally punched Darwin in the face on the first day of seventh grade and consequently stolen his heart. Janos Quested was Darwin’s adopted brother (a sophomore who almost never spoke (even to Darwin)) and he was dating Azazel No-last-name, a scary looking senior who doted on Janos like the most precious gem in all of history and managed to be (and stay) Emma’s best mate. Sean was a senior who screamed more than sang, smoked weed, liked ditching class, and was miraculously passing (even AP chemistry). The blonde kid who liked to hit was Alex Summers, appropriately deigned Havoc, on account of his uncanny knack for breaking things and getting in trouble. His older brother Scott was kind of a tight-ass, but was less so when his girlfriend Jean was around. Jean grey was a talented young girl who was quickly growing to the level of competency, charm, and intellect that made Charles and Emma so captivating. Hank McCoy was a fourteen year-old sophomore super-genius, whose pants Alex did indeed want to get into. Raven Darkholme Xavier was Charles’ kid sister who was second-in-command on the cheerleading squad (Emma was first), outspoken, and known for cat-scratching anyone who approached Charles without the absolute best of intentions. Moira Mactaggert had something like a crush on Charles that wouldn’t ever go anywhere and was best left unmentioned.

Sean, Angel, Scott, Alex, Hank. Every single one of them owed Charles more than they could ever repay, with all the beauty and happiness in the world, and in the end… Charles never even asked for a thank you. Even Jean and Darwin and Janos and Emma and Raven owed Charles a good deal and knew Charles would never ask to cash in.

Charles was the glue that held them all together. He was a saint— not a monk, definitely not a monk, but a saint. He never withdrew his hand, offered everything he had to everyone he knew and anyone he didn’t. He was filthy rich and got straight ‘A’s and even Logan liked him. Even Emma looked up to him a little.

He also had the most enthralling blue eyes in the whole universe.

Basically? He was perfect.

Erik wasn’t buying it.

Lunch rolled around and Erik got to meet the whole family, minus Charles, who had apparently opted to stay home without telling anyone. Seriously.

Raven was pretty in a childish way and had blue streaks in her curly, blonde hair. She saw Erik as somewhat respectable but, predicted his resolve would falter under Charles’ puppy dogs. Scott was tall and broodish, but always had a smile for Jean (and constantly wore red tinted sunglasses, what even?). He was wary of Erik and seemed reluctant to accept him. Jean was small, friendly, and ginger; but something about her was reminiscent of Emma. She seemed happy to accept Erik and commented that she thought Charles would really like him. Janos looked like he had walked straight off the set of a Spanish kitchen-sink-drama and didn’t even acknowledge Erik’s presence. Azazel had a somewhat unkind smile, but doted on Janos constantly, sometimes materializing at his side with no forward notice (kind of like Scott, but Erik thought better of commenting on it). He seemed to like Erik well enough. Hank was tall, skinny, socially awkward, and scared of his own shadow. He jumped every time Erik so much as glanced in his direction. Alex glared at Erik with contempt each time.

All in all, they seemed like a good bunch, if a bit…eccentric (or maybe cultish was a better word for it). Erik still hadn’t met their supposed ringleader and wondered if it would change how he saw these people; or if they would change how they saw him. He hoped not, he was just thinking he could really settle in here.


	3. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles meets Erik and vise versa.

It was after school and Christian was running late. Emma was off doing some ‘thing’ she thought was important that Erik really couldn’t give a shit about, so Erik found himself with some free time. He decided to scope out the library.

It was mostly empty and even the attendants were absent (in their place was a lazily scribbled note saying: ‘Out. Don’t steal books or I’ll kick your ass.  :D  –Logan’ even Erik knew better than to mess with that.) He wandered past a few rows and stopped at the Foreign section.

Where he promptly ceased breathing.

Between the shelves was a small clearing with a sofa, two chairs, and a low table. Sleeping on the sofa was a trim young man with tempting brown curls, plump, red lips, and a face just begging to be taken advantage of. He wasn’t beautiful— Emma was beautiful— this guy was fucking gorgeous.

His hair was tousled just right and his button up was rumpled attractively, showing just a tease of soft, pale flesh. Erik _kindofreallyverymuch_ wanted to kiss him, which was absolutely absurd. He was just some kid sleeping in a library and Erik had never even seen him before, didn’t even know how old he was. Erik was no stranger to impulse and usually he just went ahead and took what he wanted but…somehow he couldn’t move. At least he thought he couldn’t move, but apparently he could, because when he looked down he realized he was two steps closer than before and already reaching out, to do what? He couldn’t say. He just knew he wasn’t stopping.

“Charles?” His heart stuttered and he snapped his hand back like he’d been burned. The person who’d called out— Jean— rounded the corner and halted, blinking wide-eyed at him.

“What-?”

“I-!” they both said at the same time and then fell quiet. She looked back and forth between him and Charles for a second, before seeming to make up her mind. She nodded to herself and smiled deviously at Erik. Before he could say anything she walked past him.

Jean straightened her skirt and lowered herself so she could kneel in front of the couch.

“Charles.” She beckoned to the sleeping figure softly, putting a hand on his shoulder to rouse him and looking satisfied when he stirred and smiled up at her.

Erik’s breath caught in his throat for the second time that day. He had the bluest eyes Erik had ever seen, so different from the cutting chill of Frost’s and stunningly intense— deep in some incomprehensible way.

“Good morning, Jean Dear.” Charles’ voice was sleep rough and almost comically British, but somehow managed to be seductive and alluring all the same.

“Good morning, Charles. Emma is looking for you.” Jean reported dutifully.

“Oh? I wonder what for.” He mused; raising a hand to stroke a few copper strands form Jean’s eyes. She closed them and sunk into the touch. Scott entered then and smiled fondly at the familiar scene.

“You two remind me of stray cats snuggled up together. Fat, careless, and happy.” He remarked, not chary in the slightest. They turned identical Cheshire grins on him, Charles catching sight of Erik and pinning him in place with a sort of aborted gravity. Open and curious, commanding him to share his secrets.

“And, who might this be?” Smiling while he said it. Illusory. Erik felt Scott tense beside him, struck with the swift comprehension that one word from Charles could tear Erik’s world apart. He suddenly doubted the loyalty of everyone around him. A homeless orphan Jew, with not but a handful of pennies to his name versus a practiced, well loved diplomat from an affluent family who could rip Erik to shreds with a single look. It certainly wouldn’t end well for Lehnsherr.

“That’s Emma’s cousin, Erik. He speaks German and he’s a senior like Scott. I think you’ll like him!” Jean chimed in, completely unabashed, full of childish confidence.

“Ah. Of course. Emma mentioned you once before, in passing—Wanda’s nephew.” Despite the lack of a question, Erik felt compelled to give an answer. He could feel Charles assessing him, sizing him up, and bit his tongue, feigning indifference with a casual shrug, body rigid with alarm. Charles considered him for a moment longer then beamed up at him as Scott relaxed. Just like that the moment was gone.

“I’m Charles Xavier. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Erik.” His tone was warm, genuine. He extended his hand and Erik took it, wordless. Charles’ hand was malleable, compliant; skin smooth and unmarred. Charles was short, even at sixteen, just a year younger than Erik. He was 169’’’, tops. His face held callow, the air around him light-hearted and open, yet Erik could see it was maintained, coerced. It wasn’t real.

“Ahem.” Emma interjected, jerking Erik into reality.

“Hate to interrupt.” She said. Erik looked down and pulled his hand away, realizing he’d just been holding it, for far longer than was socially acceptable. He chanced a peek at Charles’ face and regretted it immediately. Charles’ eyes were amused and slightly patronizing. Ver Dammit.

“Charles.” Emma smiled, tone pleasant.

“Hello, Emma Darling. I was just getting acquainted with Erik here. I’m positively charmed.” Erik felt his face heat and frowned, ignoring the tiny stumble of his heartbeat. Emma suppressed a snort; she knew exactly what game Charles was playing. Erik didn’t stand a chance. Scott knew too and carefully preserved his facial expression. Jean just giggled, unrepentant.

“Really, Charles. Love has limits.” She countered, giving Charles a pointed look. Warning.

“Now Emma, you know I don’t believe that.” Charles quelled, pouting cutely. Acquiescence.

“I know you don’t, but the rest of us are human.”Assent.

“What am I then? An alien?” Charles huffed, not quite hiding his grin. Settled.

“More like a mutant, Sweetie.” Her rebuttal was level, effortless. To anyone unaccustomed to the pair’s daily interactions, it would appear as though they were flirting. Which is what it looked like to Erik. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Am not.” Charles muttered, indignant.

“Are too.” Emma declared. Charles sulked, looking every bit as put out as a child denied a cookie. Scott just laughed, used to their antics, while Jean patted the top of Charles’ head indulgently.

“There, there, Professor. Mutation is nothing to be ashamed of, right?” Charles sighed, and then grinned at Jean, reluctantly proud.

“So someone _is_ listening when I lecture.”

“Of course.” She beamed; Erik could imagine her with a wagging tail.

“Only Jeannie and Hank.” Scott supplied. Charles feigned insult.

“Well.” He huffed.  Emma just rolled her eyes inelegantly and led the way out of the library, knowing she’d be followed. Jean looked to Charles who shrugged and got up. Scott waited for Jean to pass and then fell in line with Erik trailing after him. Erik did notice, however, that Charles had a small collection of library books under his arm and not a single person mentioned or even acknowledged his disregard for Logan’s warning. Smug bastard.

 

* * *

 

 

When they reached the front car park Christian was there waiting for them. Charles turned to ask Emma something, motioning to the car and waving at Christian with a laugh. Emma nodded, said something back and then made a dismissive gesture at Charles, who shook his head and kissed her cheek with a chuckle. Erik watched as Charles strolled over to a sleek, black Dodge Avenger R/T. He noticed Hank already dragging equipment around the car as Charles took a box from him and dropped it in the boot. Scott and Jean walked hand in hand to a customized motor bike of some sort, settling helmets on their heads (per Charles’ request) and speeding away from the school. Erik slid into Christian’s car calling ‘shotgun’ as Emma pursed her lips at him and got in the back. Christian clucked at them sayin: ‘kids’ before merging with the flow of traffic and setting off. He looked up, meeting Emma’s eyes in the rear-view. He asked:

“First stop, Westchester?” Emma hummed and then added:

“Got in last night; spent the day sleeping in the library; brought back souvenirs for the whole family. He’ll drop by later to say ‘hi’.” Christian rolled his eyes.

“Typical Charles. He coulda called.”

“Yes. However— and I quote— ‘It was terribly late and I didn’t want to be rude.’ Hah.” Christian just threw his hands up in a ‘what can ya do?’ gesture and kept driving.

 

Westchester, as it turned out, had been the Xavier family estate for over two hundred years. Every Xavier started and ended there, regardless of any effort put in to stay away. It was inevitable.

Current residents were as follows: Cain Marko (Xavier step-sibling, twenty-one years of age, Christian’s close friend and classmate), Angel Salvador (sixteen years old, runaway, adopted four years ago), Summers brothers (eighteen and fifteen, respectively, adopted two years prior, following the death of their parents), Sean Cassidy (ward of the state, also adopted two years ago), and Hank McCoy (fourteen, circumstantial inhabitant). And Charles and Raven (obviously). Eight in total, not including staff (weekly housekeeper, gardener, and cook). A strange, but nevertheless happy, family-by-choice.

When they pull up to the house Erik actually, physically, gapes. Really. They turn down a hidden side-road— unpaved— through ten-foot iron gates, down a mile long driveway— also unpaved—, past acres of untamed forest (which creep all the way out to the property line), to a castle, a fucking castle.

The ‘house’ sits on a twenty acre plot (which spills out into the next town), between a lake and the tree line, on a hill, surrounded by uniform, perfect green grass. Its three stories tall and impossibly grand, even the Frost-summer-home pales in comparison. Erik shut his mouth and settled with a crick in his neck as they pulled into a massive, pure white, showroom-style garage. The garage contains three motor bikes (Scott’s from before, a lime green Kawasaki, and a black Ducati), six cars (the Avenger, plus another just like it, a midnight blue Charger SRT8, a silver Avalanche, a red 1920 Revere Touring, and a chameleon yellow Scion IQ), various vehicle related tools, and a hydraulic lift. Wow.

Christian slotted into a space adjacent the IQ and exited the car, Emma following suit, and Erik following them both.

The mansion, in contrast to the simplistic, modern garage, is overtly luxurious— dimly lit, rich interior, splashes of deep crimson and dulled mahogany, cherry wood floors and panelling, antique furniture, priceless paintings— all meticulously arranged with careful elegance. A sickeningly, unnecessary display of wealth.

Erik had grown up in a two-bedroom lodge in Poland with parents who worked ten hour days and gave everything they had for their only son. And still, they’d been happy. And then they’d died and Erik had gotten lost in the paperwork, bouncing from home to home until one day, entirely by chance, he’d seen his Aunt Wanda on the telly. She and Andrew had been attending some charity event with all the richest men in America. After their falling out three years ago she had neither seen nor heard from Jakob and when he didn’t return her calls she’d assumed he didn’t want to speak to her. That was one week before the accident. Wanda hadn’t been listed in the emergency contacts.


	4. Well Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The vise versa.

Charles was exhausted. He’d just come home from England; from managing estates and meeting with attorneys and executives, ensuring the Xavier assets were still in order, the old investments worth keeping and the new investments worth making. He’d stayed in the old Oxford townhouse his parents had lived in for the duration of their student days, and spent some time talking with professors who had known them and were interested in his work. He’d gotten reacquainted with old friends of his and old friends of his parents (who had all gone out of their way to remark upon his incredible resemblance to his father). It had been a long six weeks, full of board meetings and ghosts. All Charles wanted to do was pass out. So he did.

Charles made his way slowly to the library, stopping to peek in at Hank’s lab and make sure the new equipment was in order (it was easier for companies to drop shipments at the school, rather than make the long drive out to Westchester). Satisfied he continued on his path accidently bumping into Logan in the hallway.

“Whoa there, Charlie Boy. You feelin alright? You look like shit.” Charles snorted and shook his head.

“Thanks, Logan. I’m glad you think I look as god-awful as I feel. It’s really very comforting.” Logan shrugged.

“Just callin ‘em like I see ‘em, Kid. Why don’t you just go home for today? Your flock ‘ll be fine for another eight hours.” Charles frowned.

“I’ve already been gone for six weeks. I miss everyone.”

“If you don’t slow down we’ll all be missing you. Just give it a break for once. You can overachieve in the morning.” Charles gave a withering look at Logan’s smug grin.

“At least go take a nap in the nurse’s office.”

“I…I was going to go and sleep in the library.” Logan took a considerate expression for a moment and shrugged again.

“Close enough. I’ll walk you.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I’m not the teacher. It doesn’t matter whether I’m there or not.” Logan just laughed and ruffled his hair.

Logan watched Charles snuggle into the couch in the middle of the library, half tempted to fetch him a duvet and a pillow. Even as exhausted as he clearly was, Charles made it a point to come to school, knowing the kids would want him nearby. Logan thought back to the first time he’d met the little Xavier boy.

 

He was still a beat-cop then, just doing patrols and such, nothing major. But then there was the accident, an explosion at KMBX Labs Inc., so much rubble and debris and sheer chaos that even civilians were called to help. After all that, there was just one confirmed casualty. Brian Xavier.

Somehow it was left up to Officer Logan and Detective Rapiout (AnnaMarie’s father) to tell the grieving widow and two small children. Detective Rapiout rang the doorbell and waited. When the door opened Sharon Xavier was standing with Raven balanced on her hip and Charles clinging to her skirt. She smiled tightly at the two men and spared a glance at Charles uncertainly. Charles stared up at his mother with all the wisdom and gravity of a man six times his age.

Detective Rapiout addressed the woman; solemn but polite, he said:

“Sharon Xavier?” She nodded.

“May we come in?” She inhaled unsteadily.

“Yes.” She said, putting Raven down and stepping out of the doorway as Charles led his little sister away from the adults.

“Officer Logan. Why don’t you look after them while Mrs. Xavier and I talk?” said Detective Rapiout sadly.

“Sir.” Logan replied with a nod and the tip of his hat, before walking in the direction of the playing children. It was a sunny day and the pair looked like angels in the idyllic garden scenery. Logan saw a bench and sat down, watching them. Charles whispered something in his sister’s ear before going to sit next to Logan.

“I’m Charles.” The boy introduced himself, eyes on his sister.

“James.” Logan replied, trying to remove some of the gruff from his voice. Charles peered up at him through messy milk-chocolate locks. The boy tried for a smile, but let it fall before he spoke again, voice quiet.

“My father is dead?” Logan regarded the young boy for a long while before turning to watch the little blonde girl search through the grass for something.

“Yes.” Charles looked up and followed Logan’s gaze. He tried for another smile and this time it stuck.

“She’s looking for a four leaf clover.” His face turned abruptly serious.

“Six years old is still young enough to believe in things like that. And old enough to ask why Daddy isn’t home yet.” Charles looked up at Logan, accusing and then empty.

“What would you say?” The boy asked. Logan looked at him and then away again.

“I don’t know.” He said.

“Me neither.” Charles confirmed.

 

They sat in silence for a while before Charles called to Raven.

“Raven Dear, do you mind keeping James here company while I go and get us some snacks?” The little girl stood up, patting the front of her dress.

“Okay. Please can I have apple juice, Charles?” He smiled at his little sister as she remembered to say please.

“Of course you can. And because you said please I’ll even sneak you an extra biscuit.” He whispered, like they were sharing a secret. She beamed up at him and ran to him. He hugged her and kissed her forehead before walking back to the house.

Logan watched in silence.

 

Sharon had no living family and neither had Brian, so she was alone with her two children when the police came to her door. She spared a glance for little Charles— her Darling boy, and wondered when it would stop hurting to look at him. He did so resemble Brian. He even had the same playful spark, yet his eyes were sombre and easy to grieve. It was a trait she wished she hadn’t passed on. She turned back to the men before her.

A detective and an officer. The detective was a morose, slightly harried gentleman who looked to be about her age, but had streaks of premature grey in his dark hair. The officer was young and gruff, but with a hidden kindness. The detective asked to come in and she took a deep breath to steady herself. She set her daughter down and watched her son take charge. The detective sent the officer, Officer Logan, to look after the children.

Sharon led the detective to the small kitchen overlooking the gardens.

“Tea?” She offered.

“No thank you, Mrs. Xavier. Why don’t you have a seat.” She had already been reaching for the kettle and her hand faltered at his response, she brought it back to her side.

“Alright.” She said, voice steady, and perched lightly on the chair facing the window and open door.

“You are aware that there was an explosion at your husband’s laboratory?” She nodded. She knew what was coming.

“We…we recovered your husband’s body late this afternoon. Do you understand what I’m saying?” She closed her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat. Her lips trembled when she spoke and her hands felt numb, her knees weak. She was glad he’d asked her to sit.

“Yes. Yes, I understand.”

“Mrs. Xavier, I am sorry for your loss. Do you have any questions? Is there something I can do?”

“Wh—…when can I—…his body, when—?” She brought her hands up to her mouth, holding back a sob, tears rolling down her cheeks. Suddenly Charles was there with a hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay, Mum. Daddy loved you, he said so every day.” Sharon took her hands away from her face and wrapped her arms around her Darling Boy, pulling him into her lap.

“I love you, and so does Raven. We’ll be alright, promise.” He said holding her tightly and trying his best not to cry. Detective Rapiout looked on in awe of the courageous young boy and waited quietly for Sharon to calm.

After a while Sharon regained her composure. She straightened up and wiped her face. Detective Rapiout handed her a tissue as Charles climbed down off her lap; she took it with a small ‘thanks’.

She stood and went to the cabinet to grab the tin of biscuits for Charles. He took two bottles of apple juice out of the fridge and returned to his mother. She crouched down and he kissed her cheek. She stood and ruffled his hair fondly as he left, prize in hand.

 

Logan still remembered Charles’s face, scrubbing away the one stray tear, and forcing on a smile as he walked back to his sister. It broke Logan’s heart.

“Sweet dreams, Chuck.”

“Thanks, Logan.” Charles replied, shutting his eyes and plunging into the dark.

His sleep was blissfully empty and he woke to the warm, familiar sight of a smiling Jeannie. She was so pure and Charles only hoped she’d never see the cruelty she was capable of. If he had one wish for her it was that that bitter-pill stay hidden forever.

“Good morning, Jean Dear.” He said.

“Good morning, Charles. Emma is looking for you.” Jean informed him, hair falling over her emerald eyes.

“Oh? I wonder what for.” He mused aloud, pushing the rose-gold strands away. She closed her eyes, trusting, and leaned into the touch. Scott entered with a smile.

“You two remind me of stray cats snuggled up together. Fat, careless, and happy.” He remarked affectionately, as though Charles was truly the child his age expected him to be. He made to grin up at Scott, but his gaze caught something else. A stranger.

“And, who might this be?”He asked, smiling like a lie. Scott tensed at Charles’ voice, knowing what Charles was thinking. If Erik was a threat, Charles would and could break him. He would never let the people he loved be hurt again.

“That’s Emma’s cousin, Erik. He speaks German and he’s a senior like Scott. I think you’ll like him!” Jean supplied, easing his apprehension with her own assessment.

“Ah. Of course. Emma mentioned you once before, in passing—Wanda’s nephew.” Remembering the tail end of a voice message Emma left the day before Charles returned. Erik was rigid under Charles’ scrutiny and he stared for a moment longer. Erik seemed harmless, and in another life, Charles may have been swayed by his long legs and handsome features. He deemed Erik relatively harmless and manageable should any discrepancies arise. He gave a genuinely welcoming smile as Scott relaxed.

“I’m Charles Xavier. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Erik.” He said amiable, standing to offer his right hand. Erik was tall, a good head taller than Charles and about level with Scott. Erik took his hand and Charles could feel the unease pouring from his skin in waves. Charles heard the familiar click of Emma’s heels approaching.

“Ahem.” She said, announcing herself properly.

“Hate to interrupt.” She continued cynically. Erik looked down and pulled his hand away, clearly abashed. He tried to steal a glance at Charles as though to gauge his reaction. Charles was amused by Erik’s sudden insecurity. He sat back down beside Jean.

“Charles.” Emma smiled, politically. A silent interrogation.

“Hello, Emma Darling. I was just getting acquainted with Erik here. I’m positively charmed.” He answered, he was going to eat Erik alive and Emma knew it. Charles could see her suppressing a snort. Scott and Jeanie observed, mostly quietly, knowing too what was being said in the spaces between their words.

“Really, Charles. Love has limits.” Emma warned him, extending her protection to a cousin she pretended not to care for.

“Now Emma, you know I don’t believe that.” Charles soothed, making a promise to leave him alone.

“I know you don’t, but the rest of us are human.”Emma replied letting Charles know she got the message and would hold him to it.

“What am I then? An alien?” Charles sulked playfully, moving them past the subject and ending the conversation.

“More like a mutant, Sweetie.” She bantered back, letting it drop.

“Am not.” Charles mumbled, following along.

“Are too.” Emma joked. Charles pouted letting Jean join their little game.

“There, there, Professor. Mutation is nothing to be ashamed of, right?” Charles sighed, and then grinned at her, reluctantly proud.

“So someone _is_ listening when I lecture.”

“Of course.” She grinned at Charles, happy to fluff his ego.

“Only Jeannie and Hank.” Scott supplied, carrying their façade along. Charles made the face he knew they’d be expecting: indignation.

“Well.” He gruffed, ending the routine.  Emma rolled her eyes, in character to the end, and left. Jean looked to him asking whether or not to follow. Charles gave her the okay and gathered his books under his arm, disregarding Logan’s warning, knowing it didn’t apply to: him, Jean, Scott, Emma or Marie.


End file.
